


The Red Room

by southsidestyle



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Collars, Creampie, Cum Swallowing, F/M, Face-Fucking, Flogging, Humiliation, Light BDSM, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostitution, Spanking, Spitroasting, Stripping, Submission, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 19:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20680781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southsidestyle/pseuds/southsidestyle
Summary: Cheryl was as stuck up as she was hot, and Sweet Pea spent most of high school wanting to fuck her just as badly as he wanted to push her down a flight of stairs. She spent four years looking down on him and it fills him with a deep sense of satisfaction to know she amounted to nothing more than working as a whore at her mother’s brothel.So of course it doesn’t even take a second of thought before Sweet Pea clicks on Cherry Bombshell’s name to purchase her for a night in the Red Room.





	The Red Room

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Kink Week, everyone! I'm back and trying to rep for the rarepairs again. This is a fic I've wanted to write for quite a while (and is somewhat similar to a fic I wrote for a different pairing years ago), and kink week finally gave me the motivation to do that. This ended up being just about the most vanilla BDSM fic I can imagine and ends on an open note, in case I ever want to write a second part/there's any interest in it, but I'm glad I finally got it done and hope you enjoy it.

When Fangs had told him that he was gonna _ love _ his birthday present from the boys this year, Sweet Pea had expected a paint job for his bike or a new AC unit for his piece of shit trailer. 

He definitely wasn’t expecting to be gifted a night with a prostitute. 

And not just _ any _ prostitute, but one from the infamous Maple Club: a swanky, high end joint on the North Side, where the women that work there think they're so fancy that they call themselves _ escorts _ instead of _ prostitutes._

Though honestly, a whore is a whore, as far as Sweet Pea is concerned, no matter what side of town they’re from; he’s just looking to get his dick wet.

He flips the red plastic gift card between his fingers as he waits for his old as shit laptop to finish booting up, then carefully types in the long string of numbers and letters on the back of it when he’s prompted, grinning when it grants him access to the exclusive pages of the website.

Sweet Pea takes his time browsing through everything, skimming over the information for the Bronze, Silver and Gold packages until he finds the Red package, which is apparently the most extensive and expensive offer on the site—a surprise, considering his friends are cheap bastards. 

“Book our Red Room and make it a party,” Sweet Pea reads out loud, immediately intrigued. He clicks through to read the rest of the details and once he takes it all in, it suddenly makes a lot more sense why his friends were willing to fork over that much cash. 

The Red Room is located in the basement of the Maple Club, and not only provides an insanely extensive collection of sex toys and machines—a lot of which are pictured and look fun as hell—but also allows for an audience of up to ten people. 

Sounds like a Serpent party to him. 

Sweet Pea doesn’t waste any more time redeeming his gift card, picking the closest available date first, before he’s brought to the next page, where he’s asked to pick out which escort he’d like to book for the evening. 

There’s only five to choose from because, according to the blurb, the possibilities in the Red Room are so intense and vast that not all of the Maple Club’s escorts are willing to perform there. None of them have any real pictures, just exaggerated cartoon renderings to protect their identity while still giving the customer an idea of their race, hair color and size. 

They all have fake porn star sounding names too, and though all five cartoon women look appealing to him, the name under the pale redheaded one immediately catches his eye.

Cherry Bombshell.

“No fucking way,” Sweet Pea mutters in disbeliefing amusement. 

He obviously can’t be completely sure, because the cartoon is _ really _ exaggerated, but with red hair and a name like that—not to mention who owns the whole damn brothel—it can really only be one person.

Cheryl Blossom.

Daughter of Clifford and Penelope Blossom, twin sister to Jason Blossom and thorn in Sweet Pea’s side all throughout high school.

Cheryl was as stuck up and cunty as she was hot, and Sweet Pea spent most of high school wanting to fuck her just as badly as he wanted to push her down a flight of stairs.

She spent four years of her life looking down on Sweet Pea and anyone that wore the same jacket as him, and it fills him with a deep sense of satisfaction to know that she amounted to nothing more than working as a whore at her mother’s brothel. 

So of course it doesn’t even take a second of thought before Sweet Pea clicks on Cherry Bombshell’s name and purchases her for a night in the Red Room.

\---

When the night finally comes, Sweet Pea can hardly contain himself. 

Fangs and all of his friends he invited to come watch are excited too—even Jughead, who claims he’s only coming to make sure things don’t get out of control—but they don’t know about Cheryl yet. 

Sweet Pea had been so tempted to tell them what he’d discovered while redeeming his gift card, but he decided he wanted to see all their faces when they saw her instead. It’s gonna be so fucking priceless, because Cheryl was a massive cunt to every last one of them too.

They whole group of them get dirty looks on their way inside from dirty old men on their way out, which is fucking rich, considering they’re all there to do the same thing, but whatever; it wouldn’t be the North Side without judgmental, hypocritical assholes.

The inside of the place is fancy as shit, with beautiful women walking around in expensive looking clothes and with pathetic looking schlubs that probably have wives and kids at home hanging from their arms. A few of the women shoot Sweet Pea and his friends looks as they pass too, but of lust, not of judgment.

Not that he blames them, because from the looks of the non-Serpent dudes in the building, he’d definitely wanna bone himself over any of them too. 

“Can I help you gentlemen?” the woman at the front asks when they approach, hot in her own right. 

Sweet Pea steps up. “I’m here for my booking,” he explains, reaching into his pocket for the receipt he had to print out. “I have the Red Room reserved for tonight.”

The lady looks a little skeptical, considering the price of the room and the fact that they’re South Side Serpents, but she doesn’t say anything about it when Sweet Pea hands her the proof. 

“All of you need to sign this,” she instructs them once she’s done double checking Sweet Pea’s reservation on her computer. She holds out a clipboard that Jughead takes before he can. “It’s a non-disclosure agreement, as well as a contract, stating that you won’t expose anyone’s identities once you leave and that you’ll follow all the given rules and your escort’s hard limits while you’re here. Once it’s signed by everyone, bring it back and I’ll have you brought down to your room.”

“Yeah, all right,” the Serpent shrugs, moving with his friends over to one of the big ass comfy looking chairs set up in the corner. 

Of course Jughead insists on actually reading the whole thing before anyone signs it, but once his highness deems it acceptable, they all do. 

“What on earth is going on out here?” a shrill voice asks the secretary as they all approach the front desk again, and Sweet Pea immediately recognizes her as Penelope Blossom.

“They have the Red Room tonight,” the woman behind the desk explains to her boss as she silently takes the clipboard from Sweet Pea and looks it over. 

Penelope looks at them with obvious distaste—just like her daughter always used to—before something seems to register in her eyes and her face twists into something more pleasant, yet somehow sinister at the same time. 

“The Red Room, you say?” she asks her employee without looking away from the boys. “Cherry’s been booked for that tonight, has she not?”

“She has, Mrs. Blossom.”

And as Penelope’s smile widens into an evil smirk, Sweet Pea realizes she must hate Cheryl as much as he does. “Excellent,” she crows, evil also twinkling in her eyes. “Please be sure to show my girl a good time, will you?”

“You can count on it,” Sweet Pea promises with a smirk of his own.

\---

The Red Room looks just like it did in the pictures on the website—a fancy bed, a giant wood cross, a leather swing, ropes and hooks hanging from the ceiling, a few other bondage contraptions and a fucking machine on stage, with toys lining the walls—and Sweet Pea sits with his friends on the nice leather couches in the audience, while an employee uses the stage to go over all of the rules. 

“First things first: the safe word is—you guessed it—_red_,” the woman begins, and while the lecture kinda kills the mood a bit, Sweet Pea pays attention. “Consent is of the utmost importance to everyone here at the Maple Club. There’s two guards stationed at the back of the room, and video surveillance with audio recording the entire evening, so if Cherry uses the safe word at any point and you do not immediately comply, the guards _ will _ intervene and you’ll be in a lot of trouble. We all clear on that?”

“Got it,” Sweet Pea promises, and he does. He has his faults, he’ll be the first to admit that, but he’s not looking to hurt any females, not even a bitch like Cheryl Blossom; he’s just trying to fulfill a high school fantasy and humiliate her a little bit—just some innocent fun.

The rest of the group murmurs their own agreement before the woman continues on with the rest of the rules. The relevant highlights of which include:

  1. Audience members are allowed to participate, but no more than three people are allowed on the stage at a time, escort included.
  2. No recordings other than the surveillance done by the Maple Club is permitted.
  3. Flogging, spanking and other forms of pain play are permitted, but the number of rounds must be established before beginning to set a limit—no greater than fifteen.
  4. In addition to the guards, at least one handler will be in the room to insure all rules are being followed, as well as to retrieve any toys or props the customer requests and to properly set up any equipment used, including binding and unbinding the escort.
  5. If the escort uses the safe word when all rules have been followed, a new escort or refund will be rewarded.
  6. Cherry Bombshell’s personal hard limits: kissing, fisting, choking (gagging is deemed okay), watersports, scat, infantilism, needle play and figging.

Everyone agrees—though Jughead has to ask a few clarifying questions before he does—and then Sweet Pea is called up onto the stage.

“Cherry’s collar, to establish the power dynamic,” the woman explains with a friendly smile, handing him a red leather collar before shaking his hand. “Enjoy your evening, sir. I’ll go get Cherry for you.” 

With that, she disappears behind the curtain as the red lights dim and the show begins.

\---

Cheryl purses her lips in the mirror as she does final touch ups on her makeup, painting her lips red and then fluffing her signature ginger locks to make sure her hair looks the perfect amount of messy to be sexy. 

She always looks amazing for her clients, _ obvi_, but the Red Room often requires a little something extra. She wouldn’t say it’s her favorite thing to do at the Maple Club—she wouldn’t say _ anything _ is, considering she works under her hag of a mother—but Cheryl doesn’t hate it as much as most of the other girls do. 

It can surely be daunting, but in the end, it’s just like putting on a performance in a way, and Cheryl has always loved to perform. And even more than that, she’s always loved to be the center of attention, and she’s never felt the kind of rapt attention from an audience as she has in the Red Room. 

All those men, and sometimes even women, watching Cheryl get fucked and pleasured—and yes, sometimes tortured—wishing it was them up there with her; _ wanting _ her. The room is always a buzz with want and lust, and it’s all for Cheryl and it’s absolutely thrilling. 

If she has to work for her wretched mother to continue living in the lifestyle in which she’s grown accustomed until she’s old enough to gain access to her inheritance, at least she can find some fun in it. 

“They’re ready for you,” a voice calls from behind the door, and Cheryl steps back to take one last look at herself before she decides she’s ready and meets her handler—Angela—in the hallway. “Are_ you _ ready?”

Cheryl scoffs and flips her hair. “Cherry Bombshell is always ready.”

“Of course,” Angela laughs, leading the way down the hall. “I think you might like this group, they’re younger than the usual crowd. And _ hot, _ especially John. It’s his birthday.”

The escort sighs in relief, because that’s hardly ever the case. As one would imagine, most men that come into the Maple Club are old and sleazy, because those are the ones with money in Riverdale.

Sometimes they’re attractive for their ages, like Hiram Lodge, and she imagines they’re here because their wives are boring or they’re on a power trip—as opposed to because they can’t get attractive women any other way—but more often than not, they’re men Cheryl wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole if she weren’t being paid. 

“Lucky me,” Cheryl drawls with a laugh and a playful eye roll, because she’d hardly call herself lucky, being strong armed into being an escort at her mother’s brothel. 

It’s certainly not the life she envisioned for herself when she would strut around Riverdale High looking down on everyone, but she supposes it could be worse—she could be living on the South Side or something horrid like that. 

“You joke, but I’m telling you, I wouldn’t mind spending the night getting dominated by that guy,” Angela confesses as they reach the curtain separating them from the stage. 

Cheryl chuckles at the other woman’s enthusiasm, finding it a little contagious as her own excited nerves reach their peak. She runs her hands through her hair one last time and looks down at the black lingerie clinging to every curve of her body. “How do I look?”

“Like you’re about to get your world rocked.”

“_Parfait_,” Cheryl grins. “That was just the look I was going for. See you out there.” 

With that, she kisses both of Angela’s cheeks before she tosses the curtain aside and makes her grand entrance, sashaying onto the stage like she owns it—and maybe one day, when her mother finally croaks, she will, and then she won’t have to do things like this to make money; she’ll do it purely for pleasure.

The dim lighting of the room and the red spotlight that immediately finds her makes it impossible for Cheryl to see anyone in the audience as she enters, but the volume of the whistling and cheering that greets her tells her that it’s a full house tonight.

Their excitement is infectious, doubling her own easily. “Hello, fellas, and any ladies that might be in the audience tonight,” she greets them with a flirty wave, immediately slipping into her perfected Cherry Bombshell persona as she subtly looks around the stage. “Where’s my birthday boy?”

As the rowdiness of the crowd settles down and she starts to hear lots of excited whispering instead, a sudden feeling of unease creeps up into Cheryl’s gut, even before the guest of honor steps out of the shadow of the stage.

“Right here, Bombshell,” a deep voice announces and she twirls around to face her john.

Cheryl recognizes him immediately, as a boy she went to high school with. She was never friends with him, obviously, but she knows him for other reasons. 

She knows he’s a South Side Serpent—as evidenced by the leather jacket he’s wearing and the hideous tattoo on his neck—and Cheryl made it her mission to make them feel as unwelcome as possible at Riverdale High.

This one’s name is Sweet Pea, and she only knows that because Jughead had to yell it a bunch of times when he’d get into fights with football players who were doing the same thing as Cheryl. And, perhaps, because of the very brief secret affair she had with one of his friends that she doesn’t like to think about, that only lasted for a few months before she came to her senses—a gorgeous girl named Toni Topaz, who she really hopes isn’t here tonight.

And it’s that thought that has Cheryl registering the fact that if Sweet Pea is her john for the night, that means the audience is most certainly filled with his fellow Serpents. Which means not only is she going to get fucked and dominated by one tonight, but they’re all going to get to watch it happen. 

Suddenly, her regular group of sleazy old men doesn’t seem so bad, because Cheryl can’t imagine any form of torture more humiliating than this. 

But years of training—at Riverdale High and at the Maple Club—help her hide her feelings well, and she barely misses a beat as she gathers her courage to play her part.

“Aren’t you a sight,” she drawls, voice sugary sweet as she looks the very tall boy up and down with a put-on smile that she hopes hides her unease. 

Sweet Pea smirks as he stalks closer. “Yeah, I’m sure your eyes are real sore right about now,” he quips, coming to stand right in front of her so that he’s towering over her. “Surprised to see me, Blossom?”

Cheryl swallows painfully, throat dry and tight, and continues to force her smile. “_Delighted_.”

“I bet,” he laughs, clipping her on the chin before moving his hand down to play with the lacy strap of her lingerie. “So what happens now? You’re the expert here.”

“Whatever you want,” Cheryl struggles to say naturally, to admit to this Serpent that most definitely already knows that. “You’re the one in charge, big boy.”

The reality of that fact has Cheryl considering using the safe word for the first time since she started working at the Maple Club; even though the customers get to choose which escort they want, every woman has the right to refuse a customer if they’re not comfortable. 

Cheryl’s never been as tempted to exercise that right as she is right now, but she knows that would just be letting Sweet Pea and the other Serpents win; she never showed any weakness to them in high school, and she isn’t going to now. 

“I like the sound of that,” Sweet Pea replies like the sleazy asshole he is, before he turns to his equally sleazy friends in the audience. “You like the sound of that, boys?” His answer is a roaring round of applause, complete with obnoxious and crude comments being hurled towards her, which of course just widens Sweet Pea’s grin as he turns back to her with harder eyes. “In that case, let me put this on,” he starts, carefully clipping her red collar around the column of her slender neck, officially making her his for the night. “Now lose the get up. Never really saw the point in lingerie.”

He fingers the collar and then smacks her ass as he takes a step back, and Cheryl grits her teeth. “Of course.”

But before she can start peeling the tight lacy garment off, Sweet Pea is clicking his tongue and stopping her. “Nuh uh,” he shakes his head. “Make it sexy, Red. Do a little Serpent dance for us. Can we get some music in here?”

Cheryl wants to snap at him, tell him that escorts aren’t strippers, but what would be the point? He’d just laugh and make her do it anyways, so instead of fighting it, she just nods to Angela on the side of the stage and waits for the music to kick in before she starts to strip.

It’s hardly a first for her, but she doesn’t feel any more comfortable doing it now than she did the first time, because she knows all the eyes watching her are more than just horny for her body. 

But Cheryl still does her job and she does it well, swinging her hips and swaying to the sexy music filling the room as she slowly reveals herself to every Serpent in front of her that she can’t see—pale inch by pale inch. 

She uses the sawhorse as a prop as she exposes her tits, dancing against it and straddling it until she struts across the stage to do the same to Sweet Pea as she exposes the rest of creamy, flawless skin. 

Cheryl does a great job stretching it out, and by the time the song is done, she’s naked and pressed against the boy’s body, panting as she looks up at him with eyes she hopes convey a sense of confidence she doesn’t quite feel.

“Was that sexy enough for you?” Cheryl questions as she bats her eyelashes, hands and chin on Sweet Pea’s chest. 

His attraction and arousal is obvious—and not just because she can feel it pressing against her stomach—but Cheryl sees something she recognizes in his eyes; something that tells her he knows what game she’s playing and that he’s playing to win too.

“Damn sexy, Red,” he admits, his eyes swimming with want as he licks his lips. His big hands find her slim waist and he squeezes. “But you know what would be even sexier?”

Cheryl, after years of doing the job and knowing what men want more than she knows what she wants herself half the time, takes a stab and lets her hand slide down Sweet Pea’s body to tug at his belt, wanting to do it without being told. 

“I bet I can guess,” she purrs, but he pulls away from her before she can even get the buckle undone. 

“Not yet,” Sweet Pea tsks, taking a step back and adjusting his belt, drawing attention to the bulge in his jeans. “I know you want my cock, Bombshell, but you’re gonna have to earn it.”

Cheryl grits her teeth and swallows her scoff, forcing herself to keep playing along. “And how can I do that?”

Sweet Pea’s smirk curls up wider and the direction his eyes shift to let Cheryl know what he’s about to say before he even says it. “For starters, you can climb up onto that thing over there again and show me and my boys that amazing ass of yours.”

It’s not an unexpected request, but Cheryl still has to ball her fists and dig her fingernails into the palm of her hand to stop herself from slapping him like wants to, oh so badly. Instead, all she does is give him a tight smile and then blows him a kiss.

“Whatever you say, honey,” she reiterates, mostly to remind herself, and then makes her way back over to the sawhorse. 

She makes an ordeal out of climbing up onto it, laying down so that her chest and stomach are flat, her hands and legs hanging over the edge, and her ass and pussy are on display for the rest of the room to see as the spotlight shines on her. 

As exposed as she is, Cheryl weirdly finds this slightly more bearable than standing naked in front of them, when they could see her face. She knows men, and like this, she’s an ass and pussy to them—within a few minutes, half of them might forget she’s Cheryl Blossom all together. 

Angela and another handler on duty tonight approach her to lock her wrists and ankles into place against the wood, but neither acknowledge her as they work. 

Once they’ve retreated again, she waits anxiously for Sweet Pea’s next move. She doesn’t look back or strain to hear what he says to Angela as she walks by, but a minute later, Cheryl has no trouble hearing what he says to the crowd.

“What do you say, boys?” Sweet Pea asks his friends, his amused excitement clear in his voice. “Should I go for the riding crop or the flogger?”

The Serpents all shout out their answers at once, creating a cacophony of shouting that makes it hard for Cheryl to know what Sweet Pea eventually settles on until she feels the leather tails of the flogger tickling her ass before he spanks her with it the first time. 

“Number!” Cheryl hears Angela call out sternly from behind her. “Remember, you have set a reasonable limit before you begin.”

“Ten,” he decides immediately, a big hand palming one of her still stinging ass cheeks. “We’ll call that first one a test run. Safe word?”

Usually it’s Angela that has to remind the customer of the safe word before things start, and the fact that Sweet Pea asks himself quells a little bit of Cheryl’s anxiety, she can’t lie. 

“Red.” 

Cheryl barely gets the word out before the second lashing lands hard across her pert ass with a loud slap, and her voice hitches in surprised pain at the end of it. 

She can’t see him, but Cheryl knows Sweet Pea must be grinning gleefully at her reaction and the way she flinches. “Count ‘em out for me, boys!”

“One!” the Serpents shout out in unison, and then, “Two!” when Sweet Pea brings the flogger down over her ass once again. 

Cheryl knows her pale skin is already red by the fourth smack, but it doesn’t start to _ really _ hurt until the fifth one; the seventh one makes her eyes water, but by the tenth and final time the leather pelts her ass and the back of her thighs, no tears have actually fallen. 

It’s rare for Cheryl not to cry from flogging or spanking, but her pride is on the line and that’s stronger than her pain threshold is, apparently. 

“Wow, Bombshell,” Sweet Pea praises her as he crouches down by her face, his chin resting on the offending flogger. “No screaming, no crying, barely any flinching. I’m almost impressed.” 

He reaches up to pet her hair, and even though there’s obvious condescension in everything he’s doing, Cheryl can’t deny the way her body reacts to his affirmation; praise has always been a big kink for her, thanks to her neglectful parents. 

“I live to impress,” Cheryl responds with a shaky smile, but she’s not in the headspace to sound as flirtatious as she’d like to. 

But judging by the glint in Sweet Pea’s eyes and the way the corner of his lips pull up a bit more, she still does a good enough job keeping up with her side of their little game. She can tell he’s like her, impressed by someone that can give him a run for his money, and it isn’t until that moment that Cheryl genuinely feels like she gets a little bit of her control back. 

She’s recognized that this is a game from the start, but before she was just trying not to lose—she hadn’t considered how much fun she could have _ really _ playing it too; Cheryl always did love going toe to toe with someone that could keep up.

“I’m sure you do,” Sweet Pea smirks, his hand moving from the back of her head down to her face, callous fingers swiping across her smooth cheek before dropping to toy with her collar. “You’ve always impressed me, Red. Especially that mouth of yours.” His finger moves back up to press against red lips, and he pushes past them into her mouth, forcing her to suck on it. “I’m just dying to see if it’s as impressive as it looks.”

“Well, what are you waiting for then?” Cheryl asks, her words a bit slurred as they’re spoken around his digit, but not enough that he doesn’t understand her.

“Hear that boys?” Sweet Pea calls out to his friends, even though there’s no way they heard their conversation from there. “Bombshell’s just dying to get the snake in my pants!” The cheers are expected and Cheryl fights the urge to roll her eyes, both at the bad word play and the crass reaction. “But I’m not sure if you’ve earned it yet,” he continues, speaking to her again, but loud enough for the others to hear this time, and he pulls his hand away from her face to reach back between her legs. “You sure do want it though, don’t you? You’re fucking soaked. Maybe I should take care of that for you first. You want that, Bombshell?”

Cheryl had been trying to ignore it, but she can’t deny the way her sore, no doubt bright red, thighs are soaked in arousal, or the way her cunt is absolutely throbbing with need. It’s not really from Sweet Pea though, it’s the performance—the attention and the crowd, and even the humiliation; she gets off on all of it, as much as she hates to admit.

She’d just been hoping not to be so damn obvious about it. 

But there’s no hiding now, with Sweet Pea’s probing fingers playing with the soft, wet flesh of her pussy and feeling the proof of it himself. “Yes,” Cheryl admits lowly, begrudgingly. 

“Yes, what?” he smirks, fingers moving up and down her slit, but purposefully avoiding her clit. “Come on, how bad do you want it? Tell me. I wanna hear you say it.”

Cheryl’s first instinct is to resist, but she’s worried if she resists too much now, then Sweet Pea will just up his price going forward, and instead of just making her admit she wants it, he’ll make her beg for it, and Cheryl Blossom absolutely refuses to beg for anything, least of all from a South Side Serpent.

So truly, admitting her arousal and her desire for him to tend to it is the lesser of two evils in this particular situation, which makes sucking up her pride a bit easier to swallow—no puns intended. 

“I want you to make me come,” Cheryl concedes, making sure to speak the words clearly and loudly, lest he force her to repeat it. 

Sweet Pea continues grinning, looking as satisfied as ever and pushes himself to his feet. “I think that can be arranged,” he agrees, but it feels too easy. And when he asks Angela to bring him a couple different vibrators to choose from, Cheryl immediately understands why. “Jones, get up here!”

Cheryl tenses at his words. _ Not him, anyone but him_, she silently pleads to herself, the rest of her body catching up to the color of her ass as she blushes all over from the embarrassment. 

Submitting to and being used by a Serpent is one thing, but bringing Jughead Jones into it, the beanie wearing hobo? Cheryl seriously considers yelling out the safe word right then and there, desire to win and come be damned, just for the principle of the matter. 

It was bad enough assuming he’d been in the audience watching, but Cheryl can’t possibly let Jughead touch her, can she? Oh, but why does the fact that she hates the idea so much make the inferno between her legs grow that much hotter? 

What the hell is wrong with her? 

Cheryl’s so wrapped up in her head, contemplating everything she knows about herself, that she misses the entire conversation that Sweet Pea and Jughead have behind her, and the next thing she knows, there’s a loud buzzing, then a sudden sensation against her clit.

“Oh my g—” Cheryl yelps, but her exclamation is abruptly cut short when a hard cock is shoved into her mouth without warning. 

She’s completely caught off guard, and her instincts have her wrists rattling in their bindings, but she doesn’t fight it—_can’t _ fight it—just lets her mouth go slack as the dick inside it jabs at the back of her throat. 

Cheryl can’t tell which of the boys is at which end of her body at first, not at this angle and while she’s tied to the sawhorse, but judging by the sheer size and girth of the cock sliding along her tongue, her educated guess would be Sweet Pea—Jughead doesn’t strike her as a guy with a cock the side of a beer can.

Her theory is proven correct a couple minutes later, when a rough hand fists itself into her red hair and pulls her head up as hips start pistoning against her face harder. “Fuck hell, Blossom,” a deep voice grunts from above her, and it definitely belongs to Sweet Pea. 

Which means Jughead is the one pressing a vibrator against her clit right now, switching the speed and pressure constantly, so that just when she thinks she’s close to getting a grip on her orgasm, it slips away from her, and he waits just long enough so that she can’t catch it again. 

It’s so frustrating and infuriating that it’s all Cheryl can focus on, even as Sweet Pea’s cock fills her mouth over and over again, splitting her lips wide open as he stuffs the full length of his shaft down her throat, his heavy balls brushing against her chin each time he goes in deep. 

Cheryl can feel herself drooling, saliva building up and spilling over her loose lips as they stretch around Sweet Pea’s thick size, and she can only imagine what her makeup must look like already, but all of her attention is concentrated between her legs, where a different part of her body is probably drooling by now too. 

She doesn’t know how or why Jughead is so good at torturing her—at knowing just when she’s close to coming and how to delay her orgasm—but it’s making Cheryl dizzy. The harsh face fucking probably isn’t helping with that though, either. 

Sweet Pea and Jughead are speaking to each other—crude and crass things, no doubt—but Cheryl can barely hear it over the ringing in her ears, and what she can hear, she can’t make much sense of. 

All Cheryl can do right now is feel—the rough pubic hair scratching her nose each time Sweet Pea crams his fat cock into her mouth; the belt buckle that keeps smacking her on the cheek; the bindings on her wrists and ankles; the maddening and changing vibrations against her throbbing clit and the slick fingers probing her tight asshole—she’s feeling all of it, and all at once. 

And then just like that, it’s gone. 

“Can we move this? Or at least turn it around?” Sweet Pea requests as he abruptly pulls out of her mouth, stepping back as her handlers approach. Jughead seems to do the same at the other end of the sawhorse, as the only sensations Cheryl can feel right now are the echoes of his torment. 

“Where to, sir?” one of the handlers asks, and Cheryl only has enough brain function at the moment to be able to tell that it’s not Angela—she didn’t notice who else was working the room tonight. 

“To the front,” Sweet Pea instructs. “My boys deserve a better view.”

“You got it.”

Cheryl feels weightless as the wooden frame underneath her is swiftly lifted and moved, and while the lewd comments and cheering coming from the crowd get easier to hear the closer she gets to them, she can’t find it in herself to care. 

Not even when she ends up facing them, face covered in spit, sweat and smeared lipstick. She can see them a little more clearly not, even with the spotlight still shining on her; the sawhorse set up parallel to the stage’s edge, giving the Serpents a perfect side view of whatever's to come. 

“Fogarty,” Sweet Pea calls, and Cheryl sees Fangs’ outline stand up and bound up the steps.

“No more than two other people on stage,” Angela reminds the boys as she retakes her position in the shadows, and before Sweet Pea can argue or give anymore orders, Jughead speaks up. 

“I’ll tap out,” he offers, and Cheryl can’t help but feel a little bit of disappointment. 

Yes, perhaps she’d been positively beside herself at the possibility of servicing the likes of him not too long ago, but again, there was something thrilling in the thought of it. 

“Don’t look too disappointed, Red,” Fangs laughs, surprising her by settling at her head instead of down between her legs. where the boy he was replacing had been. “I’ll make sure he taps back in after I’ve had some fun with you.”

The instant surge of relief Cheryl feels at his taunting words is quickly followed by embarrassment; what a very vicious circle her libido is. 

Luckily for her, she doesn’t have much time to dwell on it before Fangs is slipping his half hard cock into her mouth and providing Cheryl with a great distraction. 

\---

Sweet Pea tugs at his cock as he watches Fangs fuck Cheryl’s face, trying to decide on his next move. He has multiple toys held in his other hand, and as much as he’d love to torture her a bit more after seeing the way she reacted to Jughead’s actions, he doesn’t have the patience of the Serpent King.

Cheryl’s mouth was amazing—though he knows a blowjob where she’s actually an active participant would be even better—but he knows her cunt has to be twice as good, and he can’t wait any longer. But before he shoves his dick in there, he has to do one more thing.

Discarding the vibrators for now, Sweet Pea takes the princess plug he’d requested from one of the handlers and runs the cool steel through Cheryl’s sopping cunt lips, soaking it in enough of her arousal so that when he moves it up to the tight ring of her ass, it swallows the slick, round head of the plug without much effort. 

Sweet Pea smiles as the sight of the plug—the end of it red, of course, and in the shape of a heart—nestled in between the round, pink and pale cheeks of Cheryl’s fantastic ass, and he can’t resist giving her a couple of swats before he grips his cock and lines it up. 

“You ready for me, Bombshell?” Sweet Pea wonders with a lecherous grin, knowing full well that she can’t answer him with Fangs’ cock in her mouth; it’s more of a warning than a question. 

He runs the head of his cock through Cheryl’s dripping folds like he just did the plug, watching the way they part around his tip and _ fuck, _ he’s never been so turned on in his life. 

Sweet Pea knew he’d always wanted to fuck Cheryl, but he didn’t realize until this moment just how badly he wanted it, wanted _ her_.

He thought he just really wanted to put her in her place, humiliate her and degrade her the way she did him and all his friends in high school, but as he teeters on the verge of doing it, Sweet Pea realizes the reality of fulfilling a long sought after fantasy. 

A sexual fantasy, sure, not like a life long dream or anything, but still—_what a fucking moment_. 

And as Sweet Pea settles at Cheryl’s entrance and slides his cock into her slick, pulsating cunt, it feels every bit as amazing as he always imagined it would. 

He has to crouch a little due to his height, but it’s so worth the slight discomfort. She’s tight—oh so fucking tight, partly thanks to the plug sitting snug in her ass—and warm and wet, and her walls cling to his fat shaft as he splits her open. 

Sweet Pea doesn’t think he’s ever felt this satisfied in his life, and he hasn’t even come yet.

“_God damn_, Blossom,” he grunts as he bottoms out, feeding every inch of his massive cock into Cheryl until the whole thing is buried inside her. 

“She feel that good?” Fangs grunts out from across from him, palming the head of red hair he’s canting his hips into it. Cheryl’s probably gagging or choking on his cock, but Sweet Pea can’t hear it over the chatter coming from the audience.

“Can pussy feel rich?” he wonders with a laugh, smacking Cheryl’s ass again and grinning wider when her cunt clenches around his cock in response. “Because her pussy feels fucking _ rich_.”

Fangs laughs as he brings his other hand down to cup Cheryl’s head fully. “You gonna let me have a taste?”

“For sure,” Sweet Pea promises his best friend, bringing his own hands to either side of Cheryl’s shapely hips. “As long as you don’t mind my sloppy seconds, because I’m definitely gonna nut in her.”

“It’s _ your _birthday, man,” Fang easily agrees, and Sweet Pea’s not surprised he’s cool with it; they’ve shared girls before—Toni’s their favorite—and the guy likes dudes too, so a little jizz isn’t gonna bother him. 

He’s not sure the rest of friends will be so willing, but if they are, he plans on offering everyone a turn with Cheryl if they want one—but that’ll be a nice surprise for her later.

“Hear that, Bombshell?” Sweet Pea taunts, squeezing her sides as he finally starts moving inside her, pulling back almost enough to go all the way out before shoving himself right back into her with a sharp jerk of his hips. “Ready to become a little South Side cum slut? Make mommy proud?”

Judging by the way her pussy gets tighter around his cock as he starts thrusting into her, Cheryl likes the idea more than she’d ever admit verbally, but it seems like Fangs is the one that loves it most, because it’s not very long after that, that the boy is ready to come himself.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts as his body jolts a few times before he pulls back a bit and starts stroking his cock rapidly. “Stick out your tongue,” Fangs orders Cheryl just as his face scrunches up and he starts unloading his cum into her waiting mouth in spurts. 

The reaction that gets from the crowd is the loudest yet, and though he can’t hear it, Sweet Pea sees Fangs tell Cheryl to_ swallow it_, and the way her cunt muscles are twitching and pulling his cock deeper inside her, tells him that she’s enjoying it just as much as the Serpents are. 

She’s close, that much is obvious, and as embarrassing as it is, Sweet Pea kinda is too—it’s been a long forty-five minutes, with a lot of hot build up. 

He’s tempted to try to slow it down, or tell Cheryl she’s not allowed to come until he says so—some real porn type shit or something—but he wants to feel her come around him way more at this moment than he wants to have that kind of power over her. 

Again, he lacks the patience. 

And besides, Sweet Pea has all night to mess with Cheryl, he’ll let her have a taste of what she wants now before he takes it away from her again. 

So when he feels the tell tale signs of Cheryl’s orgasm begin, he doesn’t stop it, just tightens his grip on her hips and starts slamming into her harder; splitting her cunt open wider as it starts fluttering and spasming around his cock as she comes.

“_Oh_! Oh, oh fuck, _ oh my god_!” Cheryl whines, speaking for the first time in what feels like hours now that her mouth is empty, and her voice is noticeably hoarse from the relentless abuse her throat has taken since. 

Her shapely, pristine, sweat covered body shakes and trembles against the wood of the sawhorse, the back of her thighs quivering against Sweet Pea’s as he keeps fucking her through it; his grunts drowned out by the rowdy crowd cheering on her visible pleasure. 

They tell her to _ take it, bitch! _ and _ come on that Serpent cock! _and it all just feels so fucking good—the cheering, the tight warm cunt pulsating around his cock, the tingling in his balls, all of it—and Sweet Pea feels such an insane amount of power in that moment, over Cheryl and just the entire situation, that he can’t hold himself back from falling off the edge after her.

He gets in a couple more brutal thrusts before he buries his cock as deep inside her cunt as he can and then lets go; Sweet Pea’s balls tighten and his cock throbs, flaring around every spurt of thick cum he spills into Cheryl Blossom’s hungry cunt.

The cheering increases tenfold and while Sweet Pea never imagined his buddies would ever know what he looks like when he comes, the audience just makes his orgasm that much more intense. 

Maybe Cheryl’s not the only attention whore on the stage tonight. 

“You like that, Cheryl?” he just barely hears Fangs ask the girl, the other boy kneeling by her head as she comes down from her orgasm. “Taking two loads from both ends? You like getting filled with Serpent cum?”

“Fucking _ Serpent slut_,” Sweet Pea grunts in agreement, pumping a couple more shots of semen into Cheryl before he’s finally empty and collapsing on top of her. 

\---

Cheryl feels nothing but lazy bliss as the remnants of her pleasure still flows through her veins, sparking all of her nerve endings at once; the salty taste of Fangs’ jizz still strong on her tongue as Sweet Pea’s warm cum pools in her cunt.

Everything is loud and blurry around her and her entire body aches in the best way possible, but Cheryl’s already ready for more—of all of it.

And best of all, she knows she’s going to get it. 

She has no idea how much time passes, and she doesn’t even hear Sweet Pea or Fangs or whomever call out to her handlers, she just barely registers her limbs being freed from their shackles and her limp body being lifted and carried across the stage towards the leather swing hanging in the corner.

The princess plug in her ass shifts as she’s moved, but not uncomfortably, and Cheryl can feel some of Sweet Pea’s load leak out of her stretched, empty hole and down the crack of her ass, over the red heart, and dripping to the floor. 

She lets out a sigh of relief when her aching body is laid out onto the softer surface, but she doesn’t let herself get too used to the feeling, because she knows it’s fleeting. 

She still allows herself to close her eyes for a few peaceful moments though, as everything and everyone around her moves, and it isn’t until she feels someone tugging her legs open and shaking the swing to get her attention, that she bothers to try to figure out what’s going on. 

When Cheryl opens her brown eyes, she finds Fangs has been replaced by Jughead once again, who’s got his jeans undone and his hard—surprising big—cock out out this time. He’s leaning against a fucking machine, with one of the larger sized dildos and a vibrator attached to the end of the long pole, and Sweet Pea is standing on the other side of it, looking rejuvenated.

“Ready for the second act, Bombshell?” the taller boy asks, a carnal grin overtaking his face. 

Most of Cheryl’s tired body screams in protest—right along with her long forgotten pride—but the heat already growing in her hungry core is louder than all of it, and that’s all she’s thinking with right now. 

“_Please_,” she whines out, a little light headed still, and Cheryl already knows that won’t be the last time she begs a Serpent for something tonight. 

“I _ love _ the way that sounds,” Sweet Pea boasts, sharing a look with Jughead before they both start descending upon her like she’s their prey, illuminated in red by the spotlight shining behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Would very much appreciate it if you hit that kudos button or left a comment if you enjoyed. Thanks for reading and I hope everyone enjoys Kink Week as much as I enjoy participating.


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